


Losing my mind/Losing Control

by VibrantVenus



Series: Nonexistent Fandoms [1]
Category: Premonitions (Jude Watson)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hot Chocolate, Kissing, My First Work in This Fandom, Older Man/Younger Woman, Stockholm Syndrome, Underage Kissing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, this isn't healthy, this looks healthy but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibrantVenus/pseuds/VibrantVenus
Summary: Gracie/Lizbet/Gracie/LizbetSometimes the line blurs.





	Losing my mind/Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading the first book and idk what to say for myself. Enjoy?  
> 

   Her name is Gracie. She is seventeen years old. Her mother is dead.

    _Her name is Lizbet. She is seventeen years old. Jonah is her brother._

   Gracie/ _Lizbet_ /Gracie/ _Lizbet_

   Sometimes the line blurs.

   She's noticed some days that her mind barely reacts anymore when someone calls her Lizbet. The role of Lizbet has almost become a second skin to her. It scares her, somewhat when she forgets her own name for those few short moments. She doesn't know what to think, doesn't understand how she could have become so disconnected from the girl she'd once been. It bothers her, but with each passing day the burden of her fading memory becomes lighter. She mentions it to Jonah once, and she sees the way his knuckles whiten, hears his troubled "I'm sorry" but she still doesn't understand.

   Jonah's hand is cold in her own as she pulls him towards the kitchen. It's three am and raining and she doesn't realize what she's doing until she's pouring hot milk into cups over tiny chocolate squares. In that moment she thinks of Shay. Thinks of her blue mug with the green circle. She thinks of Diego and her mother and she thinks of home.

   But then, this place has become a home of it's own hasn't it?

   She slides the mug (purple with a pale golden sun on one side) over to Jonah. He smiles softly and takes the drink. She stares idly at the way his long fingers wrap around the mug as she holds her own drink (white with navy blue stripes).

   She takes a quick drink but stops, feeling her throat close up as she imagines the kitchen table at Shay's house. She imagines Diego, still sitting in that park, waiting for her to come back.

   Suddenly she knows she isn't imagining it, when she sees the way he opens the front door, his face grim. Shay is in the kitchen rolling meatballs, but she stops when she sees Diego's face.

_Where's Gracie?_

   She sees Detective Pasta (Fusilli?) and his sad sad eyes. She sees his notepad and ink stained fingers.

   She comes back to the present and sets her drink down with a quiet thud. Her hands tremble and she places them beneath her thighs. Her hair falls over her eyes, and the rain seems to echo inside her head.

_...bet? Lizbet? Lizbet!_

   Her eyes flash open and she can feel his hands on her face, feel the thick wet tears rolling down her face. Taste the blood in her mouth where she'd bit down on her lip. Jonah looks terrified, his blue eyes are concerned and he's on his knees in front of her.

   Her breathing is ragged, and she slides of the chair to be at the same level as him, he wraps his arms around her, cradling her close as she soaks the sleeve of his shirt with her tears.

   It shouldn't be comforting, being wrapped up in her kidnappers embrace. But it is, and she doesn't think twice about clinging harder to him. She thinks she should be screaming and crying, should be struggling to get away, that there's something wrong with her.

   Her voice is wobbly and hoarse, her words are muffled where her lips press against his neck, "Can you tell me more about Lizbet? The first Lizbet?" he freezes underneath her, but doesn't hesitate to indulge her.

   "Lizbet was one of the oldest, though she and I were only a year apart in age. She was..." he pauses, as if searching for the right words. "She was my only friend in that house," here his arms grip her a bit tighter, and she gets flashes of him much younger, laughing with a girl with the same blue eyes and long brown hair. "I miss her sometimes," he finishes quietly.

   She swallows suddenly, "Well...at least you have me now, right?" He looks down at her, almost surprised and though he smiles she knows his mind is far away, perhaps back with beautiful, laughing Lizbet, "Yeah..yeah I do."

   When he deposits her back into the bedroom, the sun is shining a dull blue gray through the windows, she curls up beneath the blankets anyways.

   The day passes as each day has passed for the year she'd been there. She finishes the book she'd been reading, and finds herself strangely excited for when nighttime approaches and Jonah will pull her out of bed and they'll just _talk._

   It's been bothering her lately. She keeps thinking of how terrified and angry she was at the beginning. She remembers it more clearly now than ever-she'd had a plan but Frances- _Kendall_ had been scared. She thinks that might have been when she'd lost her remaining hope. She remembered the terror as Nell's birthday had come closer and closer. Remembers her confused relief when the day had passed normally aside from the small party that had accompanied dinner that night.

   Where did that terror go?

   When did cage become home? When did kidnapper become human?

   These are the thoughts that clutter inside her brain as she waits for Jonah. She stares out through the curtains at the moon, big and full and bright, and her mind flashes forward.

   There's hands on Jonah's face, cradling him softly, his eyes are shut and a thumb slides over smooth lips-

   She jerks up at the sight of the flashlight, quickly jumping out of bed to stand by his side. She tries to put it out of her mind as they leave the room. But she can't stop thinking about it.

   The freckle on that thumb looked eerily like the freckle on her own.

   The next few nights go much the same way, she keeps seeing flashes of her hands-and yes she's given into the reality that those are _her_ hands- touching Jonah, caressing his face and his arms and his chest, and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

   The experience with Dora that had gotten her into this whole mess only proved that there was no real way to avoid her visions, that she could only accept them and continue on with life.

   So she has that on her plate. She thinks about it sometimes when she's sitting with Jonah. They talk mindlessly about anything and everything, less out of a desire to talk and more so as a need to not be alone. She thinks about it-about him. She can't deny that he's attractive, sure he wasn't really her type- then again had she ever really had a type? She knew she'd found Zed attractive, but then she'd believed him capable of murdering Emily.

   She thinks about this, but then she decides it doesn't matter. She'll deal with things as they come.

   Things come to a head on a Thursday. It'd been raining hard for hours when Jonah comes for her, and Gracie can tell that he's on edge. They sit in the library, on the one couch where their backs face the window. She doesn't know what to say, so they sit in silence as the thunder roars, their arms pressed together. Finally he speaks up, "The original Lizbet died." her head snaps up from where she'd been idly staring at her toes, "What?"

   He clears his throat, speaks once more. This time it clicks and she breathes out a curious, _How?_ He's silent for a few minutes before he begins explaining. About the fire and the boat and Nell's birthday. About coming back for Lizbet but not being able to save her.

   He felt guilty for Nell, but even more so for Lizbet. For not staying with her.

_For not staying with me._

   Gracie doesn't know what to say when she turns to him her hands rising to Jonah's face, cradling him softly, his eyes are shut and a thumb slides over his smooth lips. Suddenly the puzzle begins to fall into place, and she presses her lips against his, softly, quietly.

   She pulls back her own eyes shut, and she doesn't breathe, terrified for his reaction. He breathes a quiet, "Lizbet.." and her mind doesn't instantly scream 'Gracie!' her eyes flick up to his own and he seems confused, scared even, she begins to stand but then his hands are on her shoulders, his lips against hers once more. She's too startled to react instantly, but eventually her hands reach around him to cling to his back.

   This kiss isn't as soft as the hard, and when he lifts her up she wraps her legs around his hips. Her back stings when he slams her against the wall, and he releases her lips as she gasps sharply. Her head comes to rest on his throat as she tries to regain her control.

   It doesn't strike her as odd the way his arms have looped around her waist, they've been platonically affectionate enough for his touch to have become safe and comforting. She realizes then that she isn't afraid of him. Wary, sure, but she doesn't get the same terror at the sight of him as many of the other kids he'd taken did. She wonders, perhaps if it's because she's been inside his head, has seen all the ugly things that happened to him. Surely that must be it, for her not to fear his touch the way the others do.

   She comes back to awareness when he pulls back from her, she's leaned against the wall, her only support being her legs, still wrapped securely around his waist. His voice is wobbly when he speaks, "This isn't right."

   And of all the things she'd expected him to say, that hadn't been it. Sure she knew it wasn't right or okay, he had kidnapped her, she was seventeen and he was twenty eight. He thought of her as a replacement for his dead sister.

   She swallows lightly, her hands resting on his shoulders, "It doesn't have to be right as long as it feels nice, right?" and for a moment she thinks he's still unconvinced but when he presses his lips against hers she doesn't have any room left for thinking.

   His fingers grip her hips hard enough to bruise and when she gasps his tongue slides into her mouth.

   It's a strange sensation, almost as shocking as the feeling of Jake Buscemi's fist colliding against her face.

   Except, obviously, less painful.

   She's unsure of what to do, where to place her hands. She settles with wrapping them around Jonah's neck, pulling herself closer to his body. When he releases her she sucks in a big gulp of air, and lets herself slide down to sit against the wall. He sits beside her.

   The rain, she notices, has stopped. She hears Jonas sigh from where he sits beside her and when she turns to look at him she sees his hands covering his eyes, his glasses sat on the ground in front of his feet. 

   He doesn't say any thing to her when he helps her to her feet, her lips are still kiss swollen when he leads her back to her bed. She swallows, quietly saying goodnight as he's leaving the room. He pauses, turning to face her, "Goodnight Lizbet." his smile is kind and when he leaves she curls into her bed, a smile on her face. Maybe being Lizbet isn't so bad after all.

   Her name is Gracie. She is seventeen years old. Her mother is dead.

    _Her name is Lizbet. She is seventeen years old. Jonah is her brother._

Gracie/ _Lizbet_ /Gracie/ _Lizbet_

   Sometimes the line blurs.

**Author's Note:**

> Before y'all beat my ass through the screen-let me clarify. If you didn't read the tags, yes this is an unhealthy relationship. This is only barely considered consensual imo. Gracie is a young woman who was torn away from the life she knew, and instead of fighting as hard as she did canonically, she gives up, gives in, lets herself play the role of "Lizbet" that's her unhealthy way of coping, and she can sympathize with him more than probably any of the other kids. So Stockholm syndrome wasn't an unlikely turn for Gracie in this fic. This isn't meant to be healthy or happy or any of that shit so like, think about that. I feel like, the way I wrote this makes it seem super happy, but you also have to take into account the characters. Jonah wasn't batshit insane all the time, so while their relationship isn't safe/sane it isn't exactly abusive or terrifying. It's "good and sweet" but it's not really good or sweet but it is still Kidnapper/Kidnapped. Gracie's just accepted her situation. Maybe it gets better in the future idk.


End file.
